


Post mortem

by thegirl20



Series: SVU [4]
Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-17
Updated: 2013-01-17
Packaged: 2017-11-25 21:11:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/643000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirl20/pseuds/thegirl20
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Covers four second season eps (Baby Killer, Non-Compliance, Asunder and Taken) from Olivia's POV</p>
            </blockquote>





	Post mortem

She isn’t paying attention to the television playing in the background. All she can think about is the look in that little boy’s eyes; so innocent and trusting. Hardly the look of a cold-blooded killer. Children killing children. It doesn’t get much worse than that. Whatever the outcome of the case, a little girl is dead and a little boy’s life is forever tainted. Nothing will change either of those facts. And nothing will console their families. But violence breeds violence. This she knows only too well. It’s the single most terrifying piece of knowledge she possesses.   
  
She came into the world through an act of violence and she lives in fear that she will perpetuate her legacy. She knows she’s capable of it. She uses aggressive behaviour on a regular basis with suspects and perps. What if that outlet wasn’t there? Where would it all go? This is one of the questions that keeps her awake at night.  
  
She is vaguely aware of the voice of Charlie Philips, pontificating about moral rights and wrongs. Then two words grab her attention.  
  
“…Alex Cabot.”  
  
She looks up abruptly and sees Alex frozen in place on the screen. For perhaps the first time, Olivia sees doubt clouding the usually clear blue eyes. Alex’s words come haltingly, the situation obviously sprung on her. Olivia feels her stomach lurch and she realises how scared she is for the ADA. Munch flicks off the TV.  
  
“He hung her out to dry!”  
  
She is heartened by Munch’s response. She knows that Alex hasn’t entirely endeared herself to the squad as yet and it would be easy enough for them to sit back and watch her hang herself with the rope handed to her by Philips.  
  
“No matter what she does to Elias it’s lose-lose. Half the city’s gonna hate her.”  
  
“The other half won’t be turnin’ back-flips.”  
  
Olivia tries to convince herself that she feels the same way about Alex as she would about any of her colleagues, given the same situation. She’s well aware that she has a protective streak, but Alex really hasn’t been around long enough to earn that response. She does, nonetheless. The public are baying for blood, anyone’s blood, and won’t be satisfied until they get it. And Olivia can’t deny that she is terrified that the blood, metaphorical or otherwise, will be Alex’s.  
  
She quickly grows annoyed by the sarcastic discussion of the educational system and turns to Cragen, seeking reassurance.  
  
“Is there anything we can do for Cabot?”  
  
The use of Alex’s last name both distances Olivia from her, and at the same time brings her into the squad. This is how they refer to each other, and they take care of their own. She only hopes that this resonates with the rest of them.  
  
“We’ve exhausted the pool of sacrificial heads for the platter. It’s out of our hands. She needs to look at alternate solutions.”  
  
The captain’s words do nothing to comfort her. Far from it. Violence begets violence. And Alex is in the firing line.  
  
*  
  
Amazingly, they all make it through unscathed. Olivia smiles as she watches the reception Alex receives in the squadroom. She has earned both the respect of the squad and an affectionate nickname from John: Teflon. Olivia envies the title. She wonders what the opposite of Teflon is – because that’s her. She lets everything stick. She carries it around, weighed down, unable to let anything drop. Including this infatuation with the ADA.  
  
Without thinking, she reaches out as she offers her own congratulations. The slightest brush of fingers against expensive cloth. But it’s enough. It draws Alex’s eyes to her face and the moment adds itself to the list of tiny intimacies that Olivia keeps hidden away in her mind, to be replayed in times of weakness. A list that Alex will never know exists. And she will certainly never know that she helps to compile it. Every look, every smile, every word is remembered and cherished.  
  
“We’re on our way to McMullans, how ‘bout we buy you a congratulatory drink?”  
  
The list gets an unexpected addition as Alex’s immediate response to Elliot’s invitation is to turn to look at her. Seeking…what? Her approval? Her confirmation? She’s not sure. But all it takes is a smile and a slight not from Olivia for Alex to accept the invitation.  
  
Olivia tells herself that it means nothing. Alex was only trying to make sure she wasn’t going to end up being the only woman in a bar full of cops. But despite the logic her head is producing, it doesn’t stop her heart from soaring as she follows Alex towards the door.  
  
It soon comes crashing back down to earth.  
  
*  
  
As she looks down at Elias’s tiny, broken body, her earlier thoughts come back. Violence breeds violence and blood demands blood. And nothing she or anyone else can do will stop that.  
  
She needs to stay away from Alex, to clear her head. Going for a drink with Alex would only have served to add another cut to her already scarred heart. And violence against the heart is the hardest kind to heal.  
  
*****  
  
She stays true to her word as much as her job allows. She hopes that outwardly no-one will notice any change. She is as civil and friendly to Alex as she has ever been, which isn’t overly. She still compiles her list, even though she knows it’s masochistic and cannot do her any good whatsoever.  
  
She smiles as she watches Alex slap a warrant against Elliot’s chest. It’s nice to see a more playful side to the serious woman. She wishes she could have that ease with Alex. Wishes that they could joke and banter like friends. But that would involve a closeness that would ultimately be damaging and she can’t risk that.  
  
Mark Nash’s suicide hits Alex hard. To the casual observer, Alex would seem unaffected. Olivia is far from a casual observer and the dark circles under the attorney’s eyes do not go unnoticed. She is obviously losing sleep.  
  
Again, Olivia tells herself that Alex won’t be around for much longer. She knows what it’s like to feel responsible for a victim. Hell, she’s carried around guilt her whole life for something she had no hand in. She feels vicariously responsible for every victim she encounters. But she has a reason to stay with the unit. Alex doesn’t. She can get out, walk away from all of it. She’d never have to look into the eyes of another mother whose child has been raped or killed. She’d never have to listen to another rape victim give an account of the atrocities she has been forced to encounter. Sounds nice.   
  
Olivia feels like she should offer Alex some sort of consolation. But what is there to say?  _‘It’s not your fault’?_  She’s not even sure that’s true. Alex offered the deal which had Mark Nash take the drug which took away his comfort, his normality. He couldn’t handle the so-called real world and he took the lucid decision to end it all. It  _is_  Alex’s fault. Olivia quite freely stated to anyone who would listen that she believed all people with mental-health problems should be forced to take medication. It’s Olivia’s fault too. It's society's fault. So any words of comfort she might come up with to offer to Alex would be empty and meaningless. She stays quiet.  
  
*****  
  
Sometimes she hates the police force. The very camaraderie that she adores within her own squad can occasionally feel like the biggest Old-Boy’s Club of them all. Cops protecting their own, even if their own happen to be cheating, lying rapists. Even in SVU, it seems that marital rape isn’t considered ‘real rape’.   
  
Olivia wants to believe that Alex feels as strongly about the case as she does. She goes after the bastard like a dog after a rabbit. But Olivia realises that it’s a combination of factors, the least of which is the need to ensure that Patricia Andrews is alright or that it won’t happen again. She knows that the guilt of Mark Nash still weighs heavy on Alex’s shoulders and that a conviction of a perpetrator, any perpetrator, will alleviate that, if only slightly. She is also aware of Alex’s political aspirations and knows that a conviction for spousal rape will score huge points on that front.  
  
She knows that she should look at Alex and see only the cold, clinical ambitious lawyer. But she can’t. Or won’t. And despite all of her sensible resolutions, she’s not even sure that she wants to.  
  
*****  
  
Siobhan Miller’s rape feels almost like a return to normality after the fucked-up cases she’s worked on recently. She wonders if she’s become desensitised when she can consider something like rape as ‘normality’ or ‘straightforward’. But how would SVU function if the Detectives had a breakdown every time they visited a rape-scene or talked to a victim?  
  
The fear that she isn’t affected soon disappears as the facts of the case become apparent. A seventeen year old victim, raped by a guy who’s already done time for rape. Another dent in her confidence in the judicial system.  
  
When the Captain calls her into his office she assumes that he has a lead her wants her to follow, or that he wants to chew her out for the late nights she’s been putting in, again. Never does it occur to her that he’s pulling her in to tell her that her mother has died.   
  
At first it seems unreal, her head refuses to process it. She spoke to her mother the day before and she was alive then. The absurdity of the whole thing adds to her certainty that the Captain has made a mistake. Falling down the subway stairs? People don’t die falling down stairs. Olivia knows death and it is brutal and bloody and unjust. It’s not careless and accidental. They must have made a mistake.  
  
“My mother never takes the subway.”  
  
Even as the words leave her mouth reality is catching up and tears are beginning to fall. She watches Cragen’s face and she sees him struggle with what he’s about to say.  
  
“The entrance outside The Velvet Room.”  
  
Salt in the wound. A wave of hate washes over her. Who she is hating is unclear. It could be her mother for allowing her weakness to be the end of her. It could be him for causing the chain of events which led to this place. It’s most likely herself.  
  
“She was drunk.”  
  
She’s not asking. She doesn’t need the nod she gets from Cragen. Her mother’s drinking is something she’s lived with her whole life. Many an argument ended in Olivia screaming at her mother that drink would be the end of her. She never thought it would end this way.  
  
Hot tears continue to roll down her cheeks but she doesn’t feel like she’s crying. She doesn’t feel much of anything.   
  
The Captain sends her home. As she puts the key into the lock on her apartment door she suddenly can’t breathe. Her heart feels like it is being squashed in someone’s hand and she shoves the door open and falls into the hallway. How long she stays curled up on the floor sobbing is anyone’s guess. When she finishes her throat is raw and her stomach muscles sore. She gets up and walks through the now darkened living room without switching on a light, she doesn’t want to see the photos there. She climbs into bed without getting undressed and buries her face into her pillow, preparing to lie awake until morning.  
  
The funeral arrangements are simple enough to make and take up half a morning. The notion of a whole day stretching out in front of her with nothing to fill it but her thoughts terrifies Olivia. When she leaves the funeral directors she heads straight to the precinct and tries to ignore the looks of concern being thrown her way by her co-workers. She has a rapist to nail, that’s what she does and that is what she will continue to do. It feels good to put her arm around the girl, to be someone’s strength and support. The righteous indignation prompted by the hotel’s attempt to make it all go away with monetary compensation also goes a long way to replacing the hollow feeling in her stomach.  
  
She works long days on the Miller case and at night she tries not to lie awake hating her mother. Her whole life has been spent wondering ‘what if’? What if her mother had never been raped? What would she have done with her life? She might’ve got married, had kids, held down a job, got a degree, won the Nobel fucking Peace Prize for all Olivia knows. Instead she had a kid by the bastard who raped her, became a paranoid, reclusive drunk and died sprawled out at the bottom of a set of subway stairs. Life is a bitch and then you die. How true that is.  
  
The day of the funeral arrives and Olivia puts on the obligatory black dress. The service is sparsely attended. The neighbours are the only ones Olivia recognises. She assumes that the others are acquaintances who met her mother in some bar or another. She sits alone at the front of the crematorium and listens to the pastor talk impersonally about her mother. She wasn’t a church-goer, neither is Olivia. His words bring her no comfort and she doesn’t believe that her mother is in a better place. But she can’t help thinking that perhaps her own life will be a little easier from now on. The guilt from that thought brings forth the tears she thought wouldn’t come and she bows her head as the coffin disappears through the curtains.  
  
A few people offer their condolences. There is no arrangement made for after the service and once again Olivia finds herself faced with a long day of nothingness. She calls Elliot and accepts his words of condolence brusquely before requesting an update on the case. As she hangs up the phone, a need appears from nowhere. She needs to see Alex. She wants nothing more than to be with someone who makes her feel happy and reminds her that life isn’t all bad. Despite the absurdity of her plan, Alex doesn’t need updated in person, she heads to the DA’s office and finds herself at Alex’s door. She knocks hesitantly.  
  
“Come in.”  
  
She pushes open the door and Alex looks up from something she’s reading. The surprise on her face is clear and Olivia feels silly for coming.  
  
“Detective Benson. I…I didn’t…”  
  
Olivia watches Alex’s eyes trail down her body, taking in the outfit she is wearing and she quickly moves to prevent any comment that it might prompt.  
  
“I was passing by and I thought I’d keep you up to speed on the case…that is…if you’re not busy.”  
  
Alex closes whatever file she had been reading and gestures for Olivia to take a seat, signalling her readiness to listen to whatever the Detective has to say. Olivia relates the latest developments with the Millers, rattling off word for word what Elliot told her. Alex nods and takes occasional notes, asking for elaboration when necessary. Olivia slowly becomes aware of the fact that her visit has fulfilled its purpose. She feels better just looking at Alex. This realisation suddenly frightens her. She can’t use Alex as some kind of crutch, someone to run to when she feels low. Like her mother did with a bottle of vodka. She stands abruptly.  
  
“I…I have to get to the station. Elliot’s waiting for me to…I have to go.”  
  
Alex stands too, confused by the sudden change in Olivia’s demeanour.  
  
“Right. Well, I’m heading there too, I could come with…”  
  
“No!”  
  
The exclamation is far too vehement and Olivia immediately tries to soften it.  
  
“I mean, I have to make a stop somewhere first…to pick up…so…you should probably just make your own way.”  
  
“Oh, of course.” Alex nods and looks down at her desk. “Perhaps I’ll see you there later.”  
  
Olivia looks at the top of her head for a moment before replying.  
  
“Yeah, maybe later.”  
  
Then she turns and walks out before Alex can say anything further.  
  
*  
  
Siobhan Miller’s deception is harder to take than usual. People lie to the police all the time, she’s come to expect it. But setting up some innocent guy as a rapist so that she could get her dirty little hands on some cash is just sick. Sitting listening to the gold-digger describe the scam saddens Olivia beyond belief and there are moments when she just has to stop and concentrate on the fact that her elbow is practically touching Alex’s. By design, not happy accident. The case is bearing down on her and despite her reservations about using Alex as the light at the end of some God-forsaken tunnel she’s found herself in, she can’t help it.  
  
*  
  
As she slaps the cuffs on Siobhan in the court-room for the manslaughter of her slandered rapist she feels no sense of satisfaction or that justice has been served. An innocent man, another innocent man, died because of them. Where’s the justice in that?  
  
She stands with Alex watches the unis take Siobhan away. She feels, more than sees, Alex turn to look at her.  
  
“I know it’s not really a time to celebrate but you guys still owe me that drink that you offered, do you feel like drowning some sorrows with me?”  
  
The breath feels like it’s been sucked from her body by the completely innocent request. Her immediate reaction is to say yes, followed just as quickly by the definite need to say no. Her hesitation appears to be taken for a negative response and Alex starts talking again.  
  
“It’s okay, it’s bad timing but maybe we could take a rain check?”  
  
Alex turns and starts to walk away and what Olivia can only describe as a blind panic takes over as she hears herself reply.  
  
“No, now’s good.”  
  
Alex stops walking and pauses for a second before turning back to face Olivia, a slight smile turning up the sides of her mouth.  
  
“Really?”  
  
Olivia feels her own lips turn up in response to Alex’s genuine surprise at her agreement.  
  
“Hey, in our line of work, there’s never a good time.”  
  
Alex walks back towards her, the smile fading, giving way to something akin to concern.  
  
“True. I don’t suppose the criminals take into account our need for a social life.”  
  
“They’re inconsiderate that way.” Olivia jokes, hoping to bring back Alex’s smile.  
  
“But this has to be a difficult time for…”  
  
She holds her breath, silently begging Alex not to bring that subject up. She doesn’t want a pity party. In fact, she’d rather forget the last few days have even happened and just allow herself to enjoy the fact that Alex Cabot has invited her for a drink. Thankfully, Alex opts not to address the dreaded subject.  
  
“…all of us. We got suckered pretty badly. A man is dead. I can understand if you'd rather we did this some other time."  
  
For a second Olivia considers taking the get-out. She’s well aware of the dangers of the situation. But she can’t bring herself to pass up the opportunity presenting itself.  
  
“Like I said, there’s never going to be a good time. There’s always going to be something to stop us. So why don’t we pretend we’re two normal people for a night and go get a damn drink?”  
  
Alex’s mouth quirks into a smile again. Olivia nods towards the exit and they turn in unison to head out. In some unspoken agreement, they don’t invite any of the others to join them. It briefly occurs to Olivia that this is a mistake. Other people would be a safety net, an excuse. A bunch of work colleagues going to get shit-faced after a hard time on the job. With it just being the two of them there is ambiguity. They’re not exactly friends, they barely know each other. So why are they going drinking in the middle of the afternoon? Then Olivia remembers that it was Alex who asked her to go. That’s a definite addition to the list. Alex turns to her as they walk out of the court building.  
  
“Are we going to…where was it, McMurphy’s?”  
  
“McMullan’s. Nah, there’s a little place round the corner, much quieter than McMullan’s. McMullan’s is always full of cops talking shit.”  
  
Cops who would be drowning in their own drool should Alex walk into the bar. Olivia couldn’t think of a worse afternoon’s entertainment than watching Alex Cabot fend off suitors. Well, maybe it would be worse if she wasn’t fending them off, but accepting them. Yep, that would be worse.  
  
“Lead the way, Detective.”  
  
*  
  
In the bar they get a drink and find a booth. Having made small-talk on the way over, Olivia suddenly finds herself struck dumb. She has nothing to say to this woman, this perfect woman who is so far removed from Olivia’s dirty, grimy world. Who shouldn’t be in a dingy bar drinking beer with a woman who is hopelessly infatuated with her. Just as she is sinking deeper into her well of self-pity, Alex speaks up.  
  
“So, you said you’d been taken by better. Have you?”  
  
Olivia smiles wryly. This she can talk about. Work she can talk about.  
  
“That was just my tough cop banter, gives me an air of cool with the perps, ya know. But, yeah, I’ve been taken more times than I can remember.”  
  
Alex concentrates on peeling the label from her bottle of beer.  
  
“Does it ever get any easier?”  
  
She considers playing it off with a joke or a flip comment, but is gripped with the need to be honest.  
  
“Nope, not ever.”  
  
Alex looks up at her, eyes questioning.  
  
“How do you keep doing it?”  
  
‘How’ is OK. At least she didn’t ask ‘Why?’.   
  
“You just gotta keep going. Put it behind you. Every time you tell yourself you won’t let it happen again, that next time you’re gonna be more suspicious, not let yourself get taken in. But you can’t be that way with everyone so inevitably you let someone take you for a ride every once in a while. Still hurts the old pride though.”  
  
Alex is nodding along, Olivia guesses she can identify with the ‘pride’ part at least. Alex opens her mouth to say something but seems to have second thoughts and closes it again. She glances at Olivia’s empty bottle.  
  
“Another drink?”  
  
It’s obviously not what she was going to ask, but it’ll do for now. Olivia nods and Alex signals for the waiter.  
  
*  
  
A few beers down the line and the conversation is flowing much easier. They talk about cases they’ve worked on, discuss common acquaintances, share a few embarrassing stories. Alex is currently laughing as Olivia recounts a particularly shameful tale involving Elliot, a mistaken address and a couple indulging in some light S&M. The same couple received a tidy sum in compensation for the trauma caused when a police officer brandishing a weapon and shouting ‘Sex crimes’ burst into their bedroom.  
  
Olivia watches Alex’s reactions with growing affection. She finds herself enjoying Alex’s company immensely and it looks like the feeling is mutual. Alex still appears to be quite guarded in what she’s saying, she starts to speak and then stops herself, which Olivia finds confusing. Usually she’s so sure of herself and it’s strange to see her uncertain.  
  
Alex’s laughter tapers off and they sit in comfortable silence. Alex looks at her for a moment without speaking.  
  
“I was very sorry to hear about your mother.”  
  
Strangely, it doesn’t bring the world screeching to a halt. The spectre of her mother’s death has appeared and Olivia doesn’t feel like she needs to brush it off or run away. And what’s more, she can see that Alex means what she is saying, it is a genuine expression of condolence.  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
Alex smiles and reaches out, laying her hand over Olivia’s. Just as quickly she withdraws it, her expression unreadable. Olivia is confused by the change but doesn’t have time to process it as Alex is looking at her watch. Olivia glances at her own watch and is shocked to see that many hours have passed since they arrived at the bar.  
  
“Wow, it’s late…”  
  
“It is…I didn’t realise…”  
  
“I really should get back, I have a brief to…”  
  
“Oh sure, me too, I got stuff that I have to…”  
  
Olivia trails off, reluctant to actually stand up and affirm her desire to leave. Alex also looks like she’s struggling with her decision. Finally Olivia reaches over and picks up her jacket. Alex does likewise and they slide out of the booth and pay the tab.  
  
*  
  
Darkness has fallen when they step out into the street. Olivia pulls her jacket tighter around her as a slight wind has started up. Alex turns to face her.  
  
“I enjoyed this afternoon. Thank you.”  
  
“No, thank you. I think I really needed…this.”  
  
‘This’ is delightfully vague and Olivia is happy to let Alex interpret it any way she sees fit. But the ‘this’ she is referring to is the two of them being out together. Not the alcohol, not the bar, not even the conversation. Just being together.  
  
“Well…we should do it again.”  
  
Olivia refrains from asking when, or suggesting they do it again tomorrow and the next day and the day after that. Instead she nods.  
  
“We should.”  
  
Alex nods back. Olivia isn’t sure if it’s the lack of light, or maybe the beer, but she’s almost positive that Alex looks at her lips before taking a deliberate step backwards.  
  
“Right…so, I’ll see you tomorrow.”  
  
“See you tomorrow, Alex.”  
  
Olivia stands and watches as Alex walks away. She’s not sure what she’s getting into. But she knows that she can’t stop it, even if she wanted to.


End file.
